Alice Ross - An Autumn Affair

Pushing the loaded trolley out to the car park with all the finesse of a drunken hippopotamus, Julia reached her car and began stuffing the bags into the boot, without a care for their contents. It was her own fault, she told herself. As much as she’d denied it over the week, she’d been desperate to see Max again today. Hoping to see Max again. She’d set herself up for an almighty fall. And boy, had she fallen.

*****

In the squash club changing room Paul gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t look too bad for someone his age, he concluded, smoothing down his T-shirt over his almost flat stomach. Okay, so he had a few grey hairs, but who didn’t at forty? And a couple of deep lines had formed at the corners of his eyes, but he rather thought they added character. His teeth were pretty good, too, thanks to his six-monthly check-ups. But maybe they’d look even better if he had them whitened. He’d noticed something on the back of one of Faye’s magazines last week about some laser treatment that guaranteed …

‘Hi there, Paul.’

Startled out of his introspection, Paul mumbled some indecipherable greeting back to the interloper, before scuttling over to the bench to pick up his squash racquet.

What on earth was he doing? He’d never been vain before. He’d always prided himself on being smart for work, of course. Looking like an executive was part of playing the corporate game. But there any interest in his appearance had endeth.

Until his new assistant, Natalia, had started in the office.

In fact, until Natalia had started in the office, Paul had been a different man altogether. Completely focused on his work; drifting along in his home life; never questioning his existence. Taking it for granted, in fact, that, as you aged, nothing really excited you any more. But having a gorgeous, nubile, twenty-something by his side all day, whose sexy smiles and lingering eye contact suggested she found him attractive, had turned all of the above on its head.

Paul, nicknamed ‘The King of Spreadsheets’, now couldn’t look at a column of numbers without his mind wandering to Natalia’s vital statistics. Couldn’t settle in his own home without wondering what she was doing. Had begun taking an unhealthy interest in his shirts. And had started carrying out a detailed analysis of his life at every opportunity.

He’d never felt more restless, more invigorated, more out of control, and more bloody wonderful since university. It was like being eighteen all over again. And the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach each morning as he drove to work increased with every mile nearer to the office. It was a fabulous feeling he’d long since forgotten. The whole experience was better than any therapy – alternative or otherwise – and had re-energised him more than a ton of vitamin pills could ever hope to.

Not that anything had happened between him and Natalia. It really hadn’t. And it wasn’t his fault Natalia had invited herself along for a game of squash this evening. He hadn’t said anything to encourage her. Well, not much anyway.

‘Oh, so you play squash,’ she’d purred the day before. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving that a go myself.’

‘I could teach you if you like,’ Paul blurted out, before engaging his brain. ‘I’ll be going to the club tomorrow evening. Straight after work.’

‘Well, it just so happens I don’t have any plans for tomorrow evening, straight after work,’ Natalia replied, running her tongue along her bottom lip in a way that made Paul quiver with lust. ‘It’s a date.’

So excited had Paul been the previous night, that he couldn’t sleep. But, as the minutes on the clock clicked by, shards of guilt began piercing his bubble of euphoria. He was a married man. He had two kids. What the hell was he doing? By the time he hauled himself out of bed, he felt exhausted. And all day in the office he’d been a jittering wreck, jumping out of his skin every time the telephone rang, an email pinged in his inbox, or someone knocked on his office door.

And now … now he’d have to spend the next hour alone with her on the bloody squash court. Just the two of them. Wearing not very much clothing. Working up a sweat.

In fact, she was probably waiting for him right now.

Sucking in a deep breath, he yanked open the door to find Natalia leaning against the wall opposite, wearing the tiniest pair of white shorts, and the tightest cropped pink T-shirt, Paul had ever seen.

‘Ready?’ she asked.

Paul couldn’t reply.

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